


I See You

by LaCroixLime



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, M/M, ending of TMA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26996416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaCroixLime/pseuds/LaCroixLime
Summary: This is what I imagine the end of TMA will roughly be like. I have not edited this at all I am simply rambling like the fool that I am.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	I See You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheQuietWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQuietWings/gifts).



They are standing under an eye. It fills up the sky, black and unblinking, the new sun in this ruined world.

“Are you sure about this, Jon?” Martin asks. He is holding Jon’s hand, so tightly that Jon is not sure if he will ever be able to let go. Maybe that's what Martin wants. To keep him here even if Jon doesn't want to stay. Or can't. It doesn't matter. They are here, under the eye, standing in front of what used to be The Magnus Institute. 

“It looks the same, doesn't it?” says Martin. “I can't believe it. The rest of the world turned into a living nightmare and this stupid building is _still standing_.”

“It’s not the same,” Jon whispers. He can see it. See all the statements he combed through all those months, all those years, resting in the heart of the archives. He can see the figure of an anglerfish, the burnt wreckage of hilltop road, the endless sky reaching out to swallow its prey. But not the tapes. No, all the statements he recorded are gone, spread out into the horrible fear landscape of the world. They power the eye in a way Jon won't let himself, _can't_ let himself. He can see the empty desks, the void where the artifact storage used to be. There are no humans left.

None except them.

“Lets go,” Jon says, and opens the door to The Magnus Institute.

It is quiet there. Quieter then the coffin where Jon had spent those horrible days with Daisy, dead and trapped and full of fear. There is a different kind of fear here. It bleeds out of the statements like a spilled cup, filling the Institute with ghosts long since lost to the eye. Tim’s and Sasha’s fear is here. So is Gertrude's. So is Jon’s. 

The two of them walk along the familiar corridors until they reach Jon’s old office. His desk is clear except for a battered old tape recorder. It is the one he found all those years ago on his first day as the Archivist. 

Martin takes in a sharp breath as he sees the tape recorder. “What is _that_ doing here?”

“To witness,” Jon says as he steps forward and hits the tiny red record button.

They are not in the Archives any more.

They are standing in the eye, hands still clasped, facing the silhouette of a man they once knew. Elias stands before them, with glowing green eyes devoid of pupils. He is the center of the eye, the center of all this horror, and the center of their attention. Finally.

“Archivist,” says Elias. But no, it is Jonah Magnus. Elias was gone the moment he tore out his eyes to make room for his patreon. “Finally. I have been expecting you.”

“I know,” Jon replies icily.

Magnus laughs. “Of course you do. You know everything. You know all the _fear_ in this world, this beautiful world that you helped create. Tell me, Archivist, what do you see?”

A tremor runs through the air. Invisible strands of lighting crackle through the air as Jon and Magnus stare at one another.

“ **I see you** ,” Jon’s voice comes out in a deep, guttural growl that fills the room with its presence. “ **But can you see me?** ”

Magnus stares at the two of them. He stares at the tape recorder in Jon’s hands, the lighter in Martin’s. He stares into their eyes and sees the anger in them. The rage that has been nesting there since they first entered The Magnus Institute a lifetime ago. And then he sees beyond them.

“NO,” Magnus roars, jumping forward, but he is too late. Jon throws the tape recorder on the ground and it shatters like glass, hundreds of little pieces flying across the room.

There is power in knowledge. Perhaps there is power in ignorance as well, if a different sort. The tape recorder they had carried with them through that apacolyptic hellscape was full of knowledge. Knowledge of fear. Fear feeds the eyes, making it grow ever stronger the more it sees. But if that knowledge is taken away, if that fear is destroyed and erased from existence, then there is no power to be granted. 

Magnus freezes in place as the tape recorder breaks. He is frozen in the very center of the eye, trapped in the middle of the iris of fear he wanted so desperately to create for centuries. 

“ **You asked me what I see** ,” Jon says. He holds up a hand and points at Magnus. “ **I see myself wearing the Watcher’s Crown**.”

Martin flicks on the lighter. It is the lighter Annabelle sent Jon so long ago, the lighter with the odd web design. A spark flares to life beneath the flint and steel. And it is enough.

“ **Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing.** ”

Magnus screams as his entire body engulfs in flames. His eyes begin to melt as the eye beneath him withers and shrieks along with its master. The whole world is filled with the sound of the screaming eye, of the screaming fear it used as its heart.

Jon grabs Martin’s hand and forces him to look into his eyes. Only then does Martin realize that Jon is on fire as well.

“Jon! JON!,” Martin yells, his hands scrambling over Jon’s face in a desperate attempt to shield his eyes. “No, no, you said this wouldn’t happen…”

“Martin,” Jon’s voice is so soft that Martin almost misses it. “Martin, look at me.

Martin does. He looks into Jon’s soft brown eyes. How many times has he seen those eyes before? How many times have they been filled with fear, exhaustion, anger, or sadness? But right now, the only thing in Jon’s eyes is love. Martin can see it, just as Jon can see him. In fact, it is the clearest thing Martin has ever seen before.

“Look at me and tell me what you see.”

In answer, Martin presses his lips to Jon’s, salty tears flowing rapidly down his face. They do nothing to quench the fire building up around Jon. And through it all, he can still see the love in Jon’s eyes.

And then Jon is gone. Martin opens his eyes and finds himself standing in Jon’s burning office. The others had done their job, then. While Martin and Jon confronted Elias, Melanie, Georgie, and Basira had set fire to The Magnus Institute. It was where the Eye’s power originated, and it was where its power would end. 

The tears streaming from his eyes make it hard to see, but as Martin turns towards Jon’s desk he catches sight of three transparent figures standing before him. It is Tim, Sasha, and Gertrude. They smile at him sadly, and nod at him. Their fear has vanished. Their unspoken thanks is flooded into Martin as he watches Tim and Sasha vanish. Before she vanishes, Gertrude points down at the desk, the only thing in the room not burning, and Martin sees that old tape recorder again. But this time it has a tape in it.

Martin presses play.

_Statement Begins._

_Martin-_

_I just had the strangest dream. We were lying in a field of grass, staring up at the night sky. You were pointing out different constellations to me, telling me what they meant and how they originated. You were holding my hand. You were smiling at me._

_I’m sorry, Martin. I’m sorry that this happened. If I could do anything I would remove you from all the pain I know this must be causing you. But no, you wouldn't want that, would you? In the dream you told me that although a star glows because it is dead, there is a beauty in that light. All things come to an end, you said, it’s just the way it is. We have to accept that and take what good we can from it. I think I know what you mean. We knew from the moment we set out to kill Elias that I wasn’t going to make it out. It’s fitting for me to end this way. I was never meant to live through this: never meant to be more then a means to an end. But you, Martin- you deserve to live. You deserve to be happy, to sit under the stars again and see all that you ever wanted to see._

_I love you, Martin, completely and forever. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could hold your hand again._

_I think I’ll go find that dream now._

_Statement Ends._

Martin is shaking, sobs raking his tired and burned body. And then he sees a hand in front of him. He looks up. Standing in front of him is the transparent figure of Jon. He is smiling softly, as though looking at something very beautiful. His hand brushes Martin’s cheek, then disappears. The last thing Martin sees before Jon fades away is the love in his eyes.

The tape recorder is burning now. It shrivels and melts and hisses until there is nothing left but ashes. Martin stumbles out of the room. He passes the burning statements of death, decay, vastness and loneliness, darkness and watchfulness. Of fire and strangeness, of hunting and spiraling, of flesh and webs. He passes the burning picture of Jonah Magnus, its eyes already black marks on the burning wall. He passes the place where he used to make tea for his friends. He sees a cracked mug on the table. It is the one he would always give to Jon. 

His heart is burning as well. Jon is gone. Tim and Sasha are gone. Daisy is gone. The world itself might be gone, but he is still here. He has to keep running, to keep burning and seeing and _feeling_ , because Jon can’t. He has to live so that Jon can too.

Martin runs out the door, toward Georgie and Melanie and Basira. Towards what looks like sunlight. Towards the dying stars.

And behind him, The Magnus Archives burns. 

**Author's Note:**

> Am I stupid? Yes. Am I going to edit this one day? Yes. Am I about to post this and go play skyrim for no good reason? Perhaps.


End file.
